">^y not a hotel or two?" Allison asked with amusement.
"I might," said Laura. She raised her chm. "I'd like that."
"Would you? From what I can see, it's hard woik."
So is being sent to Cape Cod to help my brother rob your house. "I don't mind woric. There are so many things I want and there's no other way . . ." Her voice trailed oH. How would someone like Allison ever understand what that meant? All she and Laura had in common was that they were both eighteen.
"I think you'll do and be whatever you want," said Owen. "But one thing you may not do: when you open your first hotd you may not steal Rosa from us to run your kitdien."
Laura smiled, gratefril for his int^rventicm when she was feeling infnior, and in a few minutes they left for the Jans-sens' house down the road.
'^Come back another tune," Allison said, keepmg pace wifii them. "Ws can talk and get to know each odier. I'll teach you
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to play tennis, if you like. When could you do it? Rosa gave you time off today; she'll do it again."
Laura was silent, ignoring Owen's curious glance.
Allison's eyes gleamed. "I'll invite you for dinner; you won't have an excuse."
"I woric for Rosa at night."
"Which nights?"
"As often as she needs me."
"I'll invite you on your day off."
"I like to spend time with my brother."
"All day?"
"Allison," Owen said as they reached the Janssens' front porch, "why do you press someone who seems reluctant to accept?"
There was a pause. "You really are, aren't you?" Allison said to Laura. "Reluctant to be witfi me. Most people think it's a big deal to socialize with the Salingers. And here's Grandpa wanting us to be friends and you absolutely refuse. Because you don't like me, right?"
I'm afraid of liking you. I'm afraid of talking to you. "I'm just so busy," she started to say, but she stopped. It would be socially right to say that, but not personally right, because Allison would know it wasn't true. Laura Fairchild had never thought about the difference between socially and personally right. I'm learning, she thought. I could live the way they do. And what's wrong with learning? As long as I have to be here for Ben, I might as well get something out of it. And if Owen really wants us to be friends . . .
"Maybe I could get away for dinner some time," she said to Allison. "And I'd like very much to learn tennis."
'Then it's set," Allison said with satisfaction. "I'll tell Rosa and we'll do it in a couple of days. Tennis in the afternoon and then a swim."
"I don't swim," Laura said, ashamed that there were so many basic skills she had never learned.
"Well, you'll learn that, too. We have all summer. What fun; I love being a teacher. Maybe we could tackle some other things, too. Have you thought about a haircut?"
"Allison," said Owen.
I'll let you know which day," Allison said hastily to Laura.
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**Wear tennis shoes and bring a swimsuit—do you have a swimsuit?"
Laura shook her head.
"I'll loan you one; I have dozens. Talk to you soon." Without waiting for a reply, she ran back to join Patricia.
Laura looked at the ground and then raised her head and met Owen's eyes. "I feel like I'm her newest project."
He looked at her thoughtfully. "You're very wise. Allison needs projects; she needs to feel needed. You could make her very happy." He paused. "And I think she could help you be happy."
"I am," Laura said swiftly. "I am happy." And then Thomas Janssen opened the door and Laura was led into another large house with bright, spacious rooms facing the ocean, a volleyball court and horseshoe strip on the beach, and a long oval swinmiing pool like a bright blue gem in the center of the smooth lawn. The rooms were furnished in pale blue wicker with blue and white cushions and straw-colored raffia rugs strewn at angles on bleached wood floors. Barbara Janssen was arranging roses, and she turned as Laura and Owen came in with Thomas.
"How nice of Owen to bring you to us, Laura; I hardly know the people in my own kitchen, much less my sister's. Rosa is a dear, isn't she? A trifle opinionated, but very clever. Would you like iced tea? Do come and sit for a while. I'm hoping Paul will get back soon; he took Emily shopping and they've been gone some time. E)o you take lemon?"
Laura started. "No. Thank you." She took the glass and sat next to Owen, sinking back into Barbara's steadily flowing words that sounded so like Leni's. The two sisters looked alike, as well: tall, blond and angular, with long necks and imperious heads, their voices like murmuring rivers in a cool forest. "I was always hoping for blue roses to match my furniture," Barbara was saying to Owen. "But a blue rose would be quite unnatural, and one shouldn't try to circumvent nature unless one is incredibly arrogant or incredibly clever. I've never been either, so I don't try." Laura listened, now and then looking up to find Owen watching her, or Thomas, his quizzical eyes moving from Owen to her and then back again. He was sniall and dark, with a short black beard and rimless
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glasses, and he almost never spoke. Laura tried to imagine him and Barbara in bed together, or even happily married, when they were so different, but she couldn*t.
Barbara stopped talking. The silence was as palpable as if a cloud had covered the sun. It was broken when Thomas said quietly, "Come in, Paul, we were hoping you'd be here."
Paul Janssen stood in the doorway, a camera slung over one shoulder. His eyebrows went up when he saw Laura, then he smiled broadly and went to her, holding out his hand. "I see my uncle had the good sense to bring you out from behind that kitchen door. I hope you feel more friendly toward us now."
Laura took the hand he o^ered, shivering slightly as his long, thin fingers enclosed hers. His distant amusement at the dinner table was gone; his smile was warm and open and his body curved above hers as she sat in the deep wicker chair, looking up at him. Suddenly she felt heavy, and hot inside, as if she were melting and everything was going to run out, all over the floor. She tightened her muscles, trying to hold herself in; then, her face burning, she let out her breath in a sigh as Paul shook her hand, like a business associate or a casual friend. He kissed his mother on her cheek and sat on the arm of his father's chair. "Have you met everyone else?" he asked Laura.
She nodded. There was a small silence. Then Owen began talking about their other visits.
"And did Allison take you in hand?" Paul asked.
Laura nodded again. She felt like a fool, clumsy and tongue-tied, not clever. That was Barbara Janssen's favorite word, and it was probably her son's, too. Paul would expect cleverness. He probably couldn't wait to get out of there and find someone clever. And beautiful.
Owen stood up. "I promised to return Laura to Rosa in good time." He turned to Barbara. "I had a thought on the way over here. Would you talk to Leni about that caretaker's cottage in the south comer? It's been empty for some time, and I thought we might offer it to Laura and her brother. They're living over a garage in Centerville, and I'm sure they'd be much more comfortable here. And of course that way they can work longer hours if we need them." He put his hand on Laura's shoulder, giving a brief smile to her stunned look. "Of
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course she may prefer living apart from us, or she may want to pay rent instead of having free lodging, but we might ask Leni if she has other plans for it, don't you think?**
"A lovely idea," said Barbara serenely. "Leni and I have talked about doing something with that cottage. We could let Rosa's assistant have it every sununer, whoever she is. I see no reason why Laura and her brother—Clay, isn't it?—^I've seen him in the orchard and he has a wonder^l way with the orchids in the greenhouse, have you noticed?—yes, it would be far more comfortable for the two of them if they lived here. Laura, I'm so pleased we met; do consider the cottage. I know how much young people treasure their independence, but you might enjoy it
here as much as we do."
She walked with them to the door as Thomas nodded a farewell. Laura heard him say to Paul, "What about Emily?"
"I'm driving her to New York," Paul answered and then the door closed and Laura heard no more. Emily. New York. I'll bet she's beautiful and rich and very clever. But it was a fleeting thought as she and Owen walked back across the compound; she was still dazed by Owen's offer.
"Did you mean it?" she asked when they reached the kitchen door.
"I never make an offer I don't mean," he replied. "I told you, I like your spirit. When a family lives behind high fences it needs new people, my dear, and it pleases me to make sure we find them. Call it an old man's whim; a strong desire to shake up my family at frequent intervals. And I think you could use some shaking up, too. You might even let Allison talk to you about cutting your hair."
Laura felt herself grow hot again. "You don't like it."
"Not especially," he said frankly. "I could be wrong—^I'm getting old, after all—but I once was considered an expert on women's beauty, and when Allison mentioned it, I knew I still had my eye. But don't worry about it; you don't have to do anything you don't want to do. Take what you want from us; we'll have a good sunmier and perhaps the beginning of a real friendship. Can we agree on that?"
This time Laura didn't hesitate; she flung her arms around his shoulders and kissed his cheek, soft and lined beneath her firm lips. *Thank you for making me feel like a nice person.'*
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He held her, and then she ran into the kitchen. "I'm sorry, Rosa, everyone talked and the time passed—"
'*Tliat is the story of this family," Rosa said. "Lx)ts of talk, not enough time. By the way, your brother was here; he asked if you'd stop by the greenhouse as soon as you can. Better do it now, before we start stuffing the ducks."
Clay had never done that before. Something was wrong. Laura dashed across the flagstone path to the other end of the estate and found Clay in one of the greenhouses. They could see the head gardener through the doorway. "Listen to this," Clay said as Laura came close to him. "Ben called at noon: he says he can't wait any longer. We've got to set up our ahbi; he's set the job for Sunday. A week after that we can wave good-bye to this place and take ourselves off. And we'll be through with the Salingers for good."
Chapter 4
BEN picked them up a few blocks from the Salinger compound, and they drove to Falmouth for dinner, blending into the crowds of tourists along the waterfront as they made their way to a table at the edge of the dock outside the Clam Shack. Ben turned the chairs to face the fishing boats in the harbor, their backs to the restaurant. **I like to watch the people," Laura protested. "No one knows us here; nobody even cares who we are.'*
"We can't be sure of that." Ben sat down and waited until she did the same. "How many times have I told you never to take anything for granted? Maybe next week, after we've pulled this off and the police are looking around, someone will remember the three of us. These are small towns; people who work in them know each other."
"Then why are we here?" Clay demanded. "I told you we should stay on the beach or somewhere private."
"I wanted to buy you a dinner." Sitting between them, Ben put his arms around their shoulders. "It's been almost two months that I haven't been able to take care of you. You're here and I'm in New York and there's nothing I can do for you." He sat back as a waiter approached. "I've missed you. Too danmed quiet around the apartment."
Laura swallowed hard against the love and guilt that welled up inside her, and she looked away while Ben ordered for the three of them. He'd been missing her, but the truth was, she'd
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hardly missed him at all, after her first week with the Salin-gers. She'd been too busy envying the way they lived and thinking about college and how to make a life for herself even farther from Ben than she was that summer.
She heard him ordering the dishes she and Clay liked best, and she loved him with a kind of helplessness that made her want to cry. He was so good to them and she'd always been able to count on him; how could she turn her back on him and walk away?
"I've worked out the rest of the plan," Clay said to Ben as soon as the waiter left. His voice was low but Laura heard his excitement; he'd done what Ben wanted and now Ben would be proud of him. "It's simple and it's neat. The kind you like."
Ben looked at Laura. "Do you like it?"
"It's Clay's plan," Laura said evasively. "I couldn't do much; Rosa's very strict."
"But a sweetie," Clay said pointedly. **You spend an awfiil lot of time with her."
"I woik for her," Laura retorted. "And I don't have the run of the place the way you do."
"You have the run of Owen's litde pad," Clay said blandly.
"Owenr Ben asked. "Owen Salinger?"
"I've done some woiic for him. That's all. Why are we talking about things that aren't important?*'
Ben gave her a long look. The waiter returned with oversize paper cups filled witili steaming clam chowder; overhead, a gull swooped past; at the tables behind them people laughed and chattered, isolating them in a small island of silence.
"All right," Ben said at last. "We'll talk about that later. Let's hear your plan. Clay. Laura did find out about the jewels, and you've been the best partner I could want; I have you to thank for these." He took two keys from his pocket and put them on the table.
"You got them made," Clay said, flushing with pleasure. **I wasn't sure I did the wax impressions right; I was in a hurry. Leni was on the yacht but I didn't know for how long, and it took me a while to find the keys in her dresser drawer." He picked up one of them. "I think this turns off the alarm and the other one unlocks the closet."
Ben glanced at Laura, but she was gazing at the fishing
[
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boats, her chin in her hand. He sighed. "Let's go through it," he said to Clay.
They bent over a small diagram, and Laura turned to look at their blond heads, so close they were almost touching. They looked so much alike and yet they were so different: Ben handsome and sophisticated at twenty-six, the cleverest man she knew; Clay, nine years younger, still unsure of himself, almost as handsome but without Ben's snK>othness. From their mother both of them got blond hair, a rounded chin, and heavy-lidded blue eyes, but Ben inherited from Judd Gardner, his father, a devil-may-care look, while Clay inherited from Alan Fairchild the cautious look of someone worried about all the obstacles life could throw in his way. Laura admired Ben; she felt protective toward Clay; she loved tiiem both and knew she wasn't like either of them.
"We'll be on Felix's yacht," Qay was saying. ^There's a big deal with some politicians he wants to impress, so he and Leni are giving a dinner on the boat on Sunday night. The whole family will be there, and a few of us volunteered to help out."
"So you're safe," Ben said. "Nobody can accuse you of robbing a house if you're on a boat in the middle of Nantucket Sound."
Clay nodded. "But before we go out, I'll fix the alarm. I did what you told me and bought a timer, and I found the alarm system in the basement, and I'll hook up the timer the way you said, so it goes off at one in the morning. You break in at midnight when the party is going strong; you've got my diagram of where you climb the fence, and the path to the house, and then the drainpipe to the second-floor hall window. Leni's room is to the right, at the end of the hall. You jimmy the window open, turn off the alarm with that key, and break the lock on the closet door, or use the key and break it afterwards to make it look like an outside job, whatever's fastest. Take the jewels and anything else you find, open all the other closets and dresser drawers so it'll look like you had to search around, and use a rope to rappel down the outside of the house."
Ben was smiling. "And leave the rope behind.'*
"Right. And tire tracks too, if you can, on the road outside
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the fence. Then, at one o'clock, the alarm goes off, the guard cal
ls the pohce and they find all the evidence of a break-in, while Laura and I are with the hired help on the yacht.''
"What about the timer on the alarm?"
"I'll get to it as soon as we come in. I figure the guard will call the poUce first, and then the yacht, and we'll get back in about an hour, while the pohce are still checking the house and the grounds. They won't have any reason to check the alarm; as far as they know, it worked fine. I can have the tuner off in less than a minute."
"Without anyone seeing you?"
"Everybody'll be busy with the police, and nobody uses the back stairs until Rosa comes in to start breakfast around six."
Ben nodded again. "I like it. Good job, Clay."
Clay beamed. "I thought you'd like it. It's foolproof."
"No plan is foolproof! I've told you that. The minute you think it is, you've begun to make it fail."
"Sorry," Clay mumbled.
"But it's good," Ben said. "Damned good. I'm proud of you. Laura? Don't you think Clay deserves some praise?"
"Sure." Laura drew on the table with the moisture that had beaded on her glass of iced tea. "Clay's very creative. He woriced hard and he wanted you to be pleased."
"But," Ben said flatly. "What's the rest of it, LauraT'
"I don't want to do it," she said in a rush. "Please, Ben, can't we change our plans and not do it?"
"Not do it?" Clay echoed incredulously. "After we went to all the trouble of getting jobs with them, and I worked out this asaiplanlNotdoit?"
Ben was watching Laura closely. "Pretty sudden change of heart."
She shook her head. "I've thought about it a lot."
"It's Owen," Clay said abruptly. "Ever since you started nKxming around after him you've been diffment about all of them. Like you're choosing them over us. Like you like them better than us."
Vehemently, Laura shook her head. "Fm not choosing them. I'm not choosing nobody—anybody."
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